Realization in the Life of the Average Student
by Jessie B524
Summary: A series of stories where some of the kids at Hogwarts realize the war, life, and what they're really made of through a common incident. Hermione gets a little racy... A tad bit more swearing... Just wait until Harry's, though.
1. The Tao of Parvati

Title: Realization in the Life of the Average Hogwarts Student: The Tao of Parvati

Rating: PG ish

Disclaimer: I am not a Scottish gazillionaire, that title is restricted to JK and Mr. MacDuck. I own nothing.

Summary: Part of a series where students at Hogwarts realize things about life through an incident that effects them all in some way.

It was a Saturday morning. Mum was making breakfast. Dad was sitting at the table, next to me, reading a Muggle newspaper. Padma was across from me, reading a Muggle novel called, "The Bell Jar." I was pretending to work on my Potions' essay. But it was too early... The soft, coolness of my pillows and blankets were still fresh on my mind. A nice breeze had been coming through the window. The sun was pleasantly dim, blocked slightly by my shades... But the damn birds. The birds were chirping like it was the best bloody thing in the world to wake up Parvati Patil. If only I could use magic outside of school.

So far on my essay parchment I had written, "Witch Hazel is." That's as far as I got. Who could do a Potion's essay when sleep was on one's mind? Beautiful sleep. And when one was trying to ignore one's sister's silent implications of intellectual superiority by reading a Muggle novel at the dinner table. I sighed as Dad let in the Prophet owl. I picked up my quill to write, but I found that I had already followed up "Witch Hazel is," with, "a stupid, Muggle novel." Then the rolled up paper caught my eye. In large bold print I could see "HOGWARTS STUDENT." I unrolled the paper, betting myself three galleons that it had something to do with Harry Potter. Well, I was almost right.

My jaw dropped in shock at the rest of the headline. Below the headline, "HOGWARTS STUDENT MISSING" was a subtitle, "Suspected Death Eater Kidnaping." My stomach shifted a little uncomfortably after reading that, but it dropped completely when I saw that below that was a black and white picture of Ronald Weasley in Muggle clothing. In the picture the wind was messing up his hair and he was giving the camera a lop-sided grin, completely unaware of his missing status.

It took a few seconds for my breath to catch and my heart beat to slow down again. For a moment I thought the newspaper wasn't real. It couldn't be. Ron was just a goofy guy that I lived with for nine months out of the year. How could he be missing? A suspected Death Eater Kidnaping? Didn't they know he was just a kid? But I felt mostly confused. Was there a proper thing to say when one heard news like this? I didn't know if there was a certain degree of shock or horror I should feel. I mean, we weren't exactly friends, but it's not as if I only saw him once at Flourish and Blotts. He lived with me. He slept no more than twenty yards away from where I slept. Then, unexpectedly, the thought came to my mind, "If he really was kidnaped by Death Eaters, he's as good as dead." That unsettled my stomach even more. Why did I have to think that?

Unable to unclench my hands from the paper, I started reading the article.

_The first official missing person since the return of You-Know-Who has been registered with the Auror Office overnight. The aforementioned missing person is a sixteen-year-old boy named Ronald Weasley, who as been missing since Wednesday evening. Ronald is the sixth of seven children to Arthur and Molly Weasley of Surrey. If found, he will be attending his sixth year, in Gryffindor house, at Hogwarts this September the first. _

_Weasley, a pureblood, is purported to be a confidante to Harry Potter. He is also close friends with fellow prefect, Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born, also of Gryffindor house. An anonymous Ministry official comments, "Well, I'm not surprised with the company he keeps. Purebloods have to be very careful with whom they associate these days." Another official, who wishes to remain nameless, agreed upon the comment and added, "Why else would they take a Pureblood? Still a child, at that. It's a warning to everyone else from the Death Eaters."_ _However, officially investigation has just begun and Kidnaping cannot be declared just yet, but evidence is in strong support of Kidnaping at this time. _

_Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt is heading the investigation under the request of the boy's father, Arthur Weasley, who is in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office of the Ministry. Shacklebolt surmises that Ronald was abducted on Wednesday, some time between four and seven, in the afternoon. Weasley had been doing odd jobs for an elderly witch in the area of his home. He had no set work schedule and when he did not arrive home before nine o'clock, his parents began to worry. The Weasley parents had their eldest son, Bill Weasley, who was visiting home at the time, go to the witch's house and see if Ron was still working. Bill found the woman unconscious and tied to a chair in the living room and no trace of his youngest brother._

_When reached for comment, all family members respectively withheld comment, with the exception of Fred and George Weasley, who were volatile and belligerent, obviously quite upset at the time. Ministry intervention has prohibited all media from speaking to Harry Potter on the matter of one of his best friend's disappearance. _

_For any and all decent citizens searching for this young man, the family has divulged the following information: The young man's approximated height is six foot and three inches, with trainers, and weight is one hundred and eighty to one hundred and ninety-five pounds, with a lean, athletic build. Most distinguishing features are red hair, freckles (copious) and blue eyes. If you see the sixteen-year-old or know anything of his whereabouts contact Kingsley Shacklebolt at the Ministry with an emergency owl. _

I was still gripping the paper with the utmost intensity when I finished reading. It was unbelievable. A big hoax, but not even Fred and George would do this. Despite my sister's reputed, horrible date with him, he had crossed my mind more than twice as an option. Things like this don't happen to people I know, I wanted to say. Things like this don't happen to boys I would possibly consider asking on a date. How could this happen to someone I know? Surely, Ron isn't worth Kidnaping. I mean, he's friends with Harry and he's loud and occasionally obnoxious, but he was a good guy. He was cute and funny and always held doors open for girls. And it was always fun to talk about how attractive he was around Hermione.

The smile from the memory fell from my face when I saw the picture in the paper again. I had known that with the war people would start disappearing and Dark Mark sightings would be more frequent, but this was unexpected... It wasn't supposed to be people I knew. It was supposed to be adults, in the Ministry or something... People who you could imagine didn't have families or friends, but this was different. I knew Ron. I knew his sister and brothers. I knew Harry. And I knew Hermione. Oh my god, Hermione. I wished for a moment that Lavender and I had been better friends with Hermione so she'd have someone to console her night then. Parents can only go so far when something happens to a friend. And Harry, well, I couldn't imagine Harry doing a good job. I thought to myself, the only girl she had was Ginny, and Ginny would be doing her own grieving.

My mother's tongue clicked over my shoulder, bringing me out of my reverie about my classmates. I hadn't even realized she was there.

"Those poor Weasleys'. Why does it always seem that bad things happen to good people?"

"What's wrong, dear?" My father asked, finally looking up from his newspaper.

"One of the Weasley children has been kidnaped," she said quietly, absentmindedly putting a soothing hand over my hair.

My father clucked his tongue, frowned and went back to reading his newspaper. I wanted to be outraged at their lack of caring, but what was I doing? Nothing. Padma looked at me, half in worry and half in confusion. I dropped the paper on the table for her to read. I didn't feel up to reading it again, myself. In fact, I felt a little sick.

I looked at my hands while Padma was reading because I didn't want to look at her face. They were sweaty and ink-smeared. She made an odd strangled noise when she was done reading. I looked up to see her face. She looked scared.

"What's wrong, dear?" Our father asked her.

"That boy! Ron, he's in our year!"

"Oh my, I didn't read that," Mum said.

"I went with him to the Yule Ball," she said in a quieter tone. Her face drooped even more and she looked at me.

In a sort of defense of myself, "He's in my House! He's lived in the dorm across from mine for five years. I've had god knows how many meals across from him. Now it's... I didn't think it would be someone we know."

Mum and Dad shot each other worried glances, while Padma just looked at the floor and pushed her book away from her. Mum went quietly about finishing breakfast. Dad held his paper up to his face again, but he wasn't reading it. I glared angrily at my Potions' essay.

"I hope he's alright," Padma muttered quietly.

I glared at my sister, "Of course he's not alright! Death Eaters are doing horrible things to him as we speak, if he's not dead already." I was stunned at my own vehemence and didn't bother to gage anyone else's reactions. That is until, out of guilt, I looked at my sister to apologize. Her eyes were sort of watery.

"Were you good friends with him? I wasn't thinking to ask."

"Not really. No. He was just a nice guy."

Lavender called later.

"Oh my god! Did you hear?"

"Yes."

"That is so horrible! I can't believe it!"

"I know."

"Poor Ron! Poor Ginny! Hermione goes over to the Burrow every summer, you know. I wonder if she's there now. Oh my gosh! We should call Seamus! He'll have already talked to Dean and surely Ginny would've talked to him. I have to know what's going on!"

"No."

"What?"

"I don't want to talk to Seamus, who's talked to Dean, who's talked to Ginny. We should just leave them alone. I don't want to gossip about a boy who very well might be dead. Especially one we know."

"It's not gossip!"

"Yes, it is. Let's just... I'll call you later, Lavender."

"Okay... Ta."

"Bye."

I went outside to find my sister. She was sitting in the grass with her arms wrapped around her knees and a book at her feet. She was on the same page she was on at breakfast. I sat down very close to her like I used when we were little and put my head on her shoulder.

"It's a beautiful day," she said. I nodded.

Then she assumed the position we would hold each other in when we were little and frightened. She turned towards me slightly, put an arm around my waist and rested her head on top of mine. I moved my legs over hers so I was basically in her lap. It was a sort of fetal position hug that could only be performed with my twin. It meant that we were scared, but we didn't have to be as long as we had each other. We hadn't hugged like that since we were eight.

"I'm inside," she said quietly. For a moment I wondered what she was saying, but then I remembered the game. During a bad storm, or whenever we were scared, we would take turns saying where we want to be. Where it wouldn't be scary.

"I'm with you," I said.

"And I'm with you. Behind the door."

"By the fire."

"With a blanket."

"Telling stories."

"Grandma's in the rocking chair."

"Singing in Hindu."

"There's no war."

"There's no You-Know-Who."

"There never was."

"We're hugging like this."

Padma skipped a beat, tried to say something, then broke away from me. She cried, in a distressed voice said, "I can't do it anymore! I can't imagine being safe. It's too scary."

I shushed her and held her against my chest while she cried. This was so different. We'd been so different for so long. So separated. I thought that if I got to re-know my sister we would hate each other. I certainly never thought I would do this. Console her.

"I remember Grandpa talking. This is how it is. First it's people. Then it's people you know. Then it's people you love. Then it's you," she said, nearly gasping in between crying.

The tone she struck me as odd when she was talking about Grandpa. The way she said it made his words sound like a dire prophecy, a death knell. I had never thought about it that way. I had always assumed that he meant that you, we should be... ready, I guess. War can destroy you and everyone you know, but you should work to protect them. That's the impression I always had. So I told her.

She looked at me in incomprehension and asked, "How can you be so optimistic?"

Again she baffled me. I didn't think of it as optimistic. It was what I was supposed to do, correct? It was what everyone should do. It felt like the right thought.

"Am I wrong?" I said, feeling a little out of place. "Aren't we supposed to protect our loved ones?"

"Yes, I guess. It's just... You seem so sure about that. What if you're trying to keep someone out of harm and it doesn't work. Mr and Mrs. Weasley obviously didn't want Ron to be hurt, but where is he now?"

I felt my face contort in confusion, "It's not a theory, Padma. It's just was Grandpa said. You're acting like it's a, a law, or something. We try and protect each other and keep each other safe, but sometimes it's impossible."

Then with a sudden surge of energy or anger or a mix of the two, she sat up straighter and countered.

"What do we do then? If Ron dies, what will Mr and Mrs. Weasley do? If you die, what will I do? What do you do, if you can't protect the people you love?"

I felt the sudden lurch of a drowning man. My thoughts were trying to assemble themselves and just get a gasp of air before they were overcome with the crushing effects of my sister's despair. It was part the twin thing. She was troubled with this horrible thought, so I was too. But who could answer that? I was angry with her expectation of me? Didn't her snotty Ravenclaw friends call Gryffindor the House for the lazy and stupid? She was supposed to answer questions like that.

"I don't know."

A psychological mess. Questions about death. Life after death. Not nirvana or reincarnation or hell or heaven. It was about the people who remain living after someone dies. Why weren't there century old philosophies or glorious, biblical stories about the right way to deal with grief? I suddenly realized there were so many questions that I couldn't answer. My sister couldn't answer. Religions couldn't answer. The answer that a dogma or bible gave you felt cheap and intolerable. The entire thought left an ashy taste in my mouth.

My sister cried again and I knew this wasn't about Ron anymore. It was hardly about Ron to begin with. This was about trying to... /comprehend/ the horrible things coming our way. I just wish I had thought before that I wasn't impregnable to this epidemic of hostility.

I held Padma closer to me and kissed her on the forehead. I had no answers for her and those problems hurt me just as much as they hurt her. But no one had answers. People like my sister, who spend their time looking for answers, trying to live a life of tests and assuredness, would find that bleak. Miserable. Horrid, even. Some part of me does too. But mostly I think that is what makes life... able to live. To think that there are no real answers, that you can make your own and really try makes me want to keep going. Sure, it's unsafe and kind of scary, but... it's the best adventure I can think of.


	2. What A Weasley Possesses

Title: Realization in the Life of the Average Hogwarts Student: What a Weasley Possesses

Rating: PG ish

Disclaimer: I am not a Scottish gazillionaire, that title is restricted to JK and Mr. MacDuck. I own nothing. I only wish I did.

Summary: Ginny's turn to realize something.

"You have to go someplace safe," Dad said quietly. He said it absentmindedly. I didn't know if he was really thinking about my safety, but it's not as if I really cared about that either at the time.

Grimmauld Place was a buzz with activity. Aurors were running to and fro getting constant updates from the Ministry over the wireless, Muggle phones they assembled and Muggle mobiles, heads popping into every available fire place, owls like mad. No matter where the adults sent me I caught smidgens of the conversations. The security at Harry's had been increased tenfold. The Burrow was going through a "sweep" and Madeye himself was leading it. Make sure the search can find him, even if he's dead. I had heard similar versions of that at least four times. It was getting out of control. Hermione's whole family had to come for their own safety. But, apparently, Grimmauld Place wasn't safe enough.

That was probably a lie. They just couldn't deal with us anymore. So many wizards amassing at one place... Well, the misdirection spells could only hold so much. They wanted to take us somewhere where the Death Eater's would never suspect, but could hold good, strong wards. It wasn't only Hermione and myself that were in danger, according to the Order. The boys in Harry's dorm, more specifically Neville, than Dean and Seamus, but they were still at risk. And Luna. There were even people being sent to Parvati's, Lavender's and Cho Chang's houses to keep an extra eye on them. But the Order people knew who was really in danger. Harry's closest friends; we who broke into the Department of Mysteries. But that's something I still can't discuss.

So in one fell swoop, they took care of the boys in Harry's dorm, Hermione, Luna and myself by taking us to Seamus' house. I thought it was odd, but I guess that was the point. It must've been Dumbledore to persuade Seamus' mother to let the Order keep us children there. I don't imagine anyone else getting through to her.

Dean, who had already been there, went straight for me when we arrived. I didn't want him. I wanted to be home. I wanted my parents to comfort me. I wanted my brothers to hold me. Not this... stranger. Dean Thomas, my boyfriend of the length of the summer, was not my family and I didn't want him to think he was that important... but I was desperate. I was desperate to be a little girl again and have someone's hug cure everything. So I clung to him, like I had clung to Luna when I saw her. Like I had to Hermione when she arrived at Grimmauld Place. Like I had to my Mum the previous night. And you know what? I wasn't little anymore and all the hugging in the world wasn't going to bring back my brother.

Seamus was very reserved and quiet and he and Neville retreated to the living room. Luna, Hermione and I followed Seamus' mother, Nora, to the spare room where we were to sleep. It was no reflection upon Nora's bland, but very clean spare room with three small beds, conjured of course, but it made me want to die. The toupe, the cleanliness, the order, the lack of strange smells gathered over the years. It was all so anti-Burrow. And that was the only place I wanted to be. Home. Not at Seamus' house. Not at the bloody Grimmauld Place. Not even at school. I wanted to go home.

I avoided Hermione's face because I knew what it looked like and I didn't need to see it again. She had been crying ever since she heard the news and excuse me for my lack of caring, but that bitch stole my brother from me... Sorry, it hardly ever comes out, but I still feel a touch of bitterness. He was mine. My brother. I know I have six, but Ron was mine. Everyone else was so much older. Too cool to play with us little ones, who were not even eleven months apart. So for ten years, Ron was mine... Then he went to school. I could and did forgive Harry for taking him away. Boys make friends with other boys, it's what they do, Mum told me. And their sisters are always there, always important, she told me. Then I found out Ron made friends with not only a boy, but a girl. And I knew right away it was different. Ron and Harry were best mates... but Hermione was just there. Taking my brother's attention away from me. So much that he hardly wanted anything to do with me when he came back from school. Even though Hermione and I are friends now, I will always feel a little subconscious anger towards her for creating that rift between Ron and myself.

Then, looking at the neat, un-burned, un-matted, un-muddied, un-trampled carpeting, it was Death Eaters taking my brother away from me. At least Hermione had the decency to return him every summer. What were they going to do with him?

Seamus' dad, Frank, suggested that we all watch a movie to take our minds off what was happening. After all, some of us had never seen a whole Muggle movie. We watched 'Raiders of the Lost Ark.' Seamus said it was a classic, but no one got into it, not even Seamus. I couldn't think of anything but Ron. The thoughts of what they could do to him made my insides jerk. I saw him after the Department of Mysteries last year. Concussed and blabbering, bleeding from the mouth. I saw him third year with a broken leg. And last year, Luna and I had been bored, looking around in the Library for stuff about Death Eaters, just in case. We came across a book about torture. (Luna had used a Restricted Section note. Most Ravenclaws had spare ones and no one really suspected anything.) It had pictures. Even though they were censored it made my sense of justice queasy.

"Ginny?" Luna said, looking worried. Her eyes were rarely focused or concentrated, but they were looking at me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

All the guys in the room shifted uncomfortably. I wanted to laugh, but I stopped myself. Only because then I wouldn't be able to stop and they'd have to drag me off to Mungo's, screaming like a madwoman, because I couldn't stop laughing over something so stupid.

"I want to scream about it," I said automatically.

"They'll find him," I heard Hermione say. She wasn't talking to me. She wasn't talking to anyone. She was wringing her hands and staring into the floor. "I've never been more sure of anything else. They'll find him. They have to." She nodded, still not looking at anyone else. "They'll find him."

"Hermione?" Neville said with trepidation. He was the only one who would look at her face. "Are you okay?"

"What?" She said in a dangerously low voice.

I looked at Neville purposely so he wouldn't go any further. He was treading on bad territory. But he didn't notice me. 

"Are you okay?"

Her gaze raised from the ground to Neville's. She looked furious. "Of course, I'm not okay. I can't see my family. I don't know what's going on. I don't know if Harry is safe... And Ron... Ron is... Oh god, I think I'm going to be sick." She suddenly keeled over and Neville held her up by her arms. She pushed him away and even after she did, she slapped him multiple times across his arms and chest. She backed him, cowering against the wall, until Dean and Seamus pulled her off him. She managed to get out of their grasp and fell to the floor of her own accord.

"Ron!" she yelled like a banshee. It brought Seamus' parents in the living room wide-eyed at the sound. Hermione kept screaming and crying and yelling Ron's name so hard, Luna and I had to walk her into the spare room they had for us. Nora rushed into the kitchen to "brew up somethin' to calm the gurl." After forcing her to drink whatever they had in the mug, the adults left the room and told us to make sure that she got some rest. The drink had ceased her wailing, but tears where still running and she was a little shaky. Luna sat with her and pet her hair, but she may as well not have. Hermione was totally within her own world, shaking and muttering to herself and trying to stop crying.

I was angry. At Death Eaters. At Hermione's hysteria. At the fact that I couldn't yell and scream and cry. At how unfair it was that I couldn't and she could because I knew him longer. At everyone for just assuming Ron was dead, even though, in the dreaded deep of my stomach I thought so too, but I couldn't let it out for fear of breaking... breaking down? Is that what it's called when someone you've loved your whole life dies? I would have to ask Professor Lupin. But the anger built up in my chest. It teemed over my size. I wished one of my brothers had been in the room, then I could justify my anger and not feel so bad for what I was about to do. But they weren't and I couldn't hold it anymore.

I walked straight up to Hermione, grabbed her hands and shouted in her face, "Stop muttering, you deranged bitch! Stop crying. He's not dead yet! You'll make people think he's dead with the way you're carrying on. Just stop it!"

She tried squirming away from me, but she isn't as tough as she looks or impresses upon people. I grew up with six brothers. I've learned the art of being rough. She tried getting further back on the bed to kick me away from her, but I pushed her back myself and wound up sitting on her, straddling her waist and holding her arms over her head.

"STOP IT!" I yelled. "He isn't dead! You don't have a right to cry. I do. I should be able to cry because he's my brother! Mine! What are you? Eh? What are you? You stole him away from me! I should cry! Stop crying!"

"Ginny," Luna said in a low hiss. "Stop it. Stop it right now."

Luna tried pulling my arms off her but I squeezed my hold on Hermione's wrists tighter. Hermione winced and squirmed and tried bucking me off of her, but she couldn't so after a while she just gave up. My need to push and cause her pain was immediately eliminated and I suddenly couldn't think of the reason why I did it in the first place. She looked so... pathetic, really, lying there, not fighting back, with quiet tears rolling off the side of her face into her ears. I let go and got off her quickly. Not fighting back was so un-Weasley like. That thought brought into sharp reality that not everyone was a Weasley or Weasley-like. So where Fred or George or anybody else would immediately forgive me and forget about it, Hermione probably wouldn't.

I sat beside her in shame. I was about to tell her an apology when a hand came and slapped me across the face. I looked up to see Hermione towering over me, white with rage.

"How dare you," she spat. "How dare you say I don't have a right to cry. What am I? Oh, I'll tell you what I am, Ginny Weasley; I am here to stay. I can't believe... Have you always hated me?"

"No!"

"So it's just recently, then. I did not steal your brother away from you!"

"Well, that's what it feels like sometimes!" I took a second to breathe instead of getting angry again. "I know you didn't. Ron and I were really close before school. Then you and Harry came along and we were starting to get close again, but now... Now he..."

"Might not be coming back," Hermione finished. She countered my glare with one of her own. "I'm not stupid. The chances aren't optimistic. I know we don't know anything yet, but... Merlin, I'm so stupid."

I never stayed to find out why she was so stupid. She began to cry again and I left to let Luna take care of it. I had my own problems to figure out. I knew I would have to apologize sometime soon for being such a bitch to her, but it was too soon. I had too many things to think about, and it may sound selfish, but I didn't want to hear anyone else's. I went into the kitchen to see if they had any candy sitting out I could filch, but Nora and Frank were standing there talking to Remus.

Only few days before, when we all found out Ron was missing, Snape and Remus had gotten into a huge row in front of everyone about several things. Remus had looked ready to pounce on anyone who talked to him ever since. But I got the very distinct impression from that row that Remus had been in Ron's situation before. That would explain why Remus could extrapolate several Death Eater torture patterns off the top of his head. And this had something to do with pissing off Snape.

But he saw me before Nora and Frank and motioned me over.

"You're parents want to see you," I felt my heart rise a little and my stomach sink at the same time. "The whole family is at the Burrow. We're having a little meeting."

For some reason I couldn't say anything. I followed him silently to the Finnigan's Floo until we went to the Burrow. I ran to my Dad and hugged him, then my Mum. And The Burrow didn't look well. Dimmer, maybe. It didn't really smell the same. The Burrow was always so alive with activity and feeling, it wasn't hard for me to consider it an entity. It also went on the same idea that we couldn't really own anything like other people. It was more like one of us than a place, with the way it reacted to us. But then, with Ron gone, it made me think of what Mum and Dad must have felt with all of us at school and gone out of the house. The Burrow looked like it was on the critical list.

I looked around to examine all my brothers. They didn't realize it, but they assembled according to height. They were accustomed to it from all those years of relatives and grandmothers and old friends of the family saying, "Oh my, look how you've all grown. Now let's see who's tallest." The last time we were all together it was Bill, Percy, Charlie, Ron, George, Fred, then me, but that was a few years ago. Ron would be right after Bill now.

"How're you doing, Gin?" Charlie asked me when he hugged me. He tucked hair behind my ears and actually sat down instead of stood. Bill sat down in the other side of me.

"Do we know anything?" I switched looks between Bill and Charlie. Both of them admitted their ignorance of the situation by silence and looking to the floor.

"What's going on?"

"Madeye, Kingsley and Tobias are coming to say if there are any new leads," Bill supplied.

After a few minutes, no one was talking. What was there to say? Oh, did you wake up this morning and have a horrible feeling of dread because you think Ron is going to die at the hands of Death Eaters? I did. What was there to say that was at all appropriate? Is it okay to voice your concerns out loud to a family, already hurting? Your own family. It was at that moment with my entire family floundering around in the deadness of the living room, I felt totally lost. What could I possibly do if my brother died?

The Aurors came after a while. I didn't bother checking the time. I was in such a despondent mood I didn't care at all. The told us all again in frustrated and repetitive tones that they still didn't know anything. They had conducted a few different types of searches, but had not exhausted their options yet. I felt cold and I hated Tom more than ever. It was enough to do what he did to me. Couldn't he leave my family alone?

The adults talked and I stayed silent. I wished someone was there to say something to make us feel hopeful. I wanted to be little again, if only so I could believe Mum when she said it would be alright. I needed the simple faith that Ron would be returned back to me and nothing would happen to him, because bad things didn't happen to good people. We didn't even have that ideal. We had nothing.

Amidst my feeble wishes to return to a simple childhood to ease the pain, Percy's and Moody's voices elevated above the rest. Apparently everyone else was tired of talking. Then in a clearing of conversion, that silence that happens when fate knows a person is about to embarrass themselves or say something wrong, Percy spoke.

"Let's just hope we can get there before he says anything vital," Percy said.

Madeye showed no response for his part of the conversation, but then suddenly looked at me strangely. Maybe it was because I could feel my face getting redder. I could feel my ears, my cheeks and my forehead burning with unconcealed wrath. Never in the history of the world could anyone ever be as angry as I had been. I felt all the anger and hatred and gall the world could offer to me and it swelled in my chest.

"Before he says anything vital?" I said in a low, hiss.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Twins take a few steps back. Percy nodded in confusion. I bared my teeth, mimicking what I had seen Professor Lupin while fighting with Snape, when he said something rude about Sirius Black.

"Not before he loses a vital organ? Not before he gets hurt? But before he says something vital."

Nearing the end I spat every word. The entire thing, Percy's aloofness and my defense of Ron, was bad taste in my mouth. It made my bile rise. Tears were filling up my eyes, but I was the sister of six brothers and had to be tough. I had a resolve to tear Percy apart for not caring and I couldn't let my anger be dwindled by tears. I had to be an animal.

"Ginny, we don't know what Harry might have told him. He could know far more than we think, which he most likely does. People's lives are in his hands and he is being tortured. How long do you think he can hold out?"

My jaw tightened, "How dare you. You think that Ron would actually hand over information like that to Death Eaters?"

Percy didn't answer me. I scoffed and looked for the other Weasley faces to support me, but all my siblings were looking down at the ground. The Aurors were as well. Mum had her head in her hands, trying not to sob. Dad had an arm around her, he gave me a slight smile, but he didn't believe. This was outrage. I couldn't believe that no one was backing me up. I couldn't /fucking/ believe that it was just an unspoken acceptance that Ron would break! I wanted to scream... So I did.

Then a hand landed softly on my shoulder. I looked up to see the sad, worn face of Professor Lupin, but I saw it in his eyes. In his brilliant, golden brown eyes was a feeling that wasn't in the eyes of my family: hope. He believed in my brother. I knew it. I clasped my arms around him and he patted me on the back. Then, after we hugged, I felt better. Merlin's foot... I finally felt better. Nothing but dread since Ron went missing, then all of a sudden, I felt hope.

"You're all wrong!" I said with a vengeance. "None of you must know Ron if you think he's going to crack. It doesn't matter what they do to him. Maybe you haven't seen what he goes through year after year, but I watch it better than anyone else. You must not realize what he'll actually do for Hermione and Harry. Every year I've seen him come back with new scars, with a new adventure. The Chess match. He sacrificed himself then. The Forbidden Forest. He went with Harry and talked ACROMANTULAS! He broke his leg and stood up to Sirius Black. Wonder of wonders, he got over his pride in fourth year. Last year... We all went into the Department of Mysteries and Ron... He protected Luna and me and because of that I got to see him wander around stark, raving mad, bleeding from the mouth. And he won't tell them anything now. He'd rather..."

That's when I broke down and cried. Because what I was about to say I knew to be true and I just wasn't tough enough to say it out loud. Seven lifetimes of eighteen brothers couldn't make you tough enough. I knew he would die before he betrayed Harry and Hermione. And I think Hermione knew it too. That's why she wouldn't stop crying. And I knew for a /fact/ that Harry knew it too. Merlin only knows what he was doing to himself because of it.

My Mum finally put her arms around me and held me while we sat on the floor. I cried like when I was little. Mum cried too. But I listened to Remus. He talked to the Aurors and my family. He told them, in detail, about the Shrieking Shack thing from Ron's third year. In a moment of glowing pride, for probably everyone in the room, Remus said he's always been impressed with Ron's dedication. He said for everyone's sake we need to have faith in Ron. Dad stood up, a little more worn than usual, a few years older than yesterday and agreed.

"What do we have," he said, " if we don't have hope."

I always knew we were poorer than everyone else. I always knew I didn't have the toys other kids had. I always knew what we were to the rich Purebloods. I always knew we wouldn't have it easy. Percy proved that we didn't always have each other as Weasleys. What Weasleys' possess are the abstract. Love, we 've had. Tempers and stubbornness alike. Determination. Bravery. I guess Hope was another abstract we'd have to cling to. Because Dad was right. What would we have otherwise?


	3. Hard

Title: Realization in the Life of the Average Hogwarts Student: Hard

Rating: PG-13 (Hermione steps it up a notch)

Disclaimer: What do I have in common with J.K. Rowling? A. Gazillions of dollars. No. B. Copyright properties to Harry Potter? Again, no. C. First name starts with a 'J.' YES! That would be it!

Summary: Hermione's part in realization is quite simple; life isn't easy. There's a little more swearing and mention of S-E-X in this one. Harry's, next, might be a full blown 'R' considering how angry I am when I write it.

It's easy to say that people hate because they are afraid of what they don't know. It is easy to say that prejudice and bigotry derives from self-conscious fear. And then it's easy to extrapolate that society should be blamed. It's evolved thinking to be compassionate.

It is not easy, however, to not hate those bigots when they take a sixteen-year-old boy away from his home and his life, with no guarantee whatsoever of returning him in one piece. It is not easy to imagine the Death Eaters that we faced down in the Department of Mysteries being afraid of me because I am what's different. As a matter of fact, it is impossible to imagine that they were even slightly daunted.

It is easy to console someone's fear and anguish and distress. It is easy because you have nothing to do with it. It may affect them and it may not, but you get to feel better for merely helping them and putting in your two cents, which is really what it's worth. It is easy to think that you could handle it. That you're tougher. It is easy to be brave when nothing traumatic has happened to you.

I thought traumatic things had happened to me. Scary things, yes. Adventurous, neck-brake, stupid things, yes. Traumatic things happened to Harry. I didn't know traumatic until I thought Ron was dead. It is not easy to cope with trauma yourself.

The day Ron was kidnaped by Death Eaters, Aurors were circling my house well before sunrise. They rushed me and my parents to Grimmauld Place. We stayed there for two days and my parents were sent on a holiday to our cousins' with Auror guards. I went to Seamus' with Luna, Ginny, and Neville. And the whole time I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat without crying. Without every bereaving molecule of my body screaming out for Ron. I had never felt like this before. I had never been so positive of my hatred and pain before. Every pore had been wrung out through my tears so all that was left was salt on my face and skin. I felt like a desert.

It was not easy to divert my attention to anything else. I tried thinking about what they would do to him and my thoughts were vile. It made me physically sick. I could barely make room to think about poor Harry. And when I did I swallowed the bitterness I didn't want to feel, or even think about. It went away, of course. But when I wasn't thinking rationally... I wanted to blame Harry. I wanted to blame anyone really. Someone real and close that I could make feel my hatred. But there wasn't anyone, so I just took it out on myself.

I made an ass of myself for all the crying I did. I didn't eat at first. I made myself relive my time with him... The worst part was I couldn't tell anyone. For the better part of fifth year, we had been dating. Seeing each other. Together. We didn't tell anyone for fear of excluding Harry when he really couldn't be excluded. We didn't want to make him feel unwanted after what had happened after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and it was a definite no after Sirius died. But we couldn't wait any longer. The tension of liking each other so much and thinking that if we did have a relationship we'd lose touch with Harry was too great. Then the prat told me he loved me. I, of course, reciprocated. I mean I only have since first year. It all went down hill from there.

Harry was miserable. Umbridge was on everybody's case. Bad things were on the horizon and we both saw it, but we did very little to help Harry. We should have... done something. But then after making the rounds or some other Prefect duty, he'd look at me with this, this light in his eyes and I had to kiss him. I had to touch him to feel that glorious light. Then he would actually touch me. I had no idea merely being touched could feel so good. He'd push my hair behind my ears and kiss the side of my face. He'd brush his leg against mine when no one was looking. When there was any chance to act like we were whispering secrets he would just say random things. Like how I looked that day or that he couldn't wait to get out of class or how he thought I looked sexy when I was studious. Sometimes we would snog so furiously that Ron got... really excited and had to leave. Then I asked him embarrassing questions about erections and he would blush like a radish and we would just sit together somewhere secluded and not talk for what seemed like seconds, but would really be an hour. And it was so easy to get caught up just looking at his eyes and his hair and his hands. It felt like for the first time I actually had the right to because he was _mine_. And a few times both of us would be in a really romantic and adventurous mood and we'd go by the lake at night and not be afraid or ashamed at all to touch each other in places we rarely ventured to go. And the best part of those few romantic times were the things he said.

_You smell like autumn, like the leaves. It's in your hair. Merlin, I love your hair. And your eyes. You're not so bad, Hermione... _He'd stop grinning and sit up, looking at my face and not the stars and say,_ I love you. _

And when Harry was miserable and we really should have forced him to talk to us about his anger and his fear, we were out snogging by the lake, or in Myrtle's bathroom, or the girls' Prefect bath. And we were happy. Even after we came back from the Department of Mysteries disaster and everyone was sad and scared, I was happier when everyone could leave us alone and it was just Ron and myself. It's easy to get carried away when you're scared.

We were talking in an old, deserted storage room. About Harry. About the war. About Voldemort. Ron said that after school he planned on going to Auror training. He had been talking to Remus and Tonks all summer about it and planned to ask them about it this summer. And he added, "That's the reason why I actually tried in Potions." I told him I was proud. Then we stopped talking and starting kissing. We didn't stop kissing. I took off his shirt and he took off mine and we didn't stop. He got really excited and started to leave but I wouldn't let him. Then we did the stupidest and most adventurous thing we've ever done. We had sex. And to use a cliche, we made love. I've always hated that phrase, but I'm going to use it because it is appropriate. Frankly, I thought it was lovely.

Afterwards, it was gorgeous. We smiled awkwardly at each other and laughed. Then out of lack of knowing what to do or what to say I hugged him. It made me feel warm again. Then we laid back down on the pile of old curtains I transfigured into a sofa. I wrapped my arms around his waist and he ran his fingers through my hair and we said nothing. The entire time neither of us said a word.

When we had to go home, we didn't speak about it. No one even knew we were dating; if they overheard us talking about that... Well, I'm sure Molly Weasley wouldn't be so welcoming towards me when I came back over the summer. We didn't mention it over our letters. Only did we acknowledge it in a shared smirk or glance before we left. But I thought about it everyday. Happy with myself to have the foresight to get on the pill at the beginning of the year. Happy with Ron for being honest and sensitive and not at all macho when it happened. Also for him taking some sort of Wizard contraceptive, but I doubted if it seriously worked on Weasleys. Both Fred and Ginny and Charlie, for some reason, last summer told me about the superstition. I thought about how happy I was with Ron. Sort of ashamed we were getting so happy when the war was escalating. But I was so... happy. The kind of happy that put all other happy thoughts to shame with their dimness.

When I had to go home I was so anxious to see him again. Letters hardly contented me. I was too excited for Ron. Thoughts about the war and concern for Harry and worry for my own blood existed in a completely different me. That was tough-Hermione. The one preparing for a war. That me was pushed to the back of my mind because it wasn't congruent with my humdrum home life in Muggle land. Read a book, talk to mum, eat some lunch, read a book, take a shower, talk to dad, watch the telly, read a book, read a book, read a book. Tough-Hermione was pushed completely out of my head when Ron came into view. I became a lovey-dovey, yearning, simpering fool when Ron came into view. Overanalyzing everything and languishing away from him. It was like every ounce of healthy cynicism fled from my body.

My mum woke me up. I looked to the windows and it was still very dark, but I could see light from my doorway. All the lights down the hallway were on. As my eyes adjusted I saw worry on her face and knew something was wrong. I looked at my digital clock; it was flashing '12:06' like a storm had just sent the power out. But I normally didn't sleep through storms.

"What's wrong?"

"Some people are here. Something's happened. Come on, get up."

I had a fleeting thought of Death Eaters invading my house, but reasoned that it wouldn't have been my mother waking me up then. I was positive then, following her down the hallway, that something had happened to Harry. When we reached the kitchen my father was sitting down at the table with Madeye Moody. They both rose to meet us.

I was confused when I looked out the window and saw Remus Lupin and the Weasley twins casting spells in my backyard. But Harry, what happened to Harry? Madeye knocked on the window and Remus and the Twins Apparated inside. They all looked cautious and dark. That was normal for my ex-professor, but on the Twins it was foreign. That made me incredibly worried.

"What's wrong? Is it Harry? What's happened?"

Remus put a hand on my shoulder, quickly withdrew, and forced a smile, "Harry is fine. Harry is at his aunt and uncle's, sleeping, presumably." He stopped for a few seconds, looking like he was thinking about something then he said, "Ron is missing. We were doing some rudimentary searches until the Aurors got a garbled message over the Wireless. Most likely, Death Eaters have Ron."

I heard Moody say, to my parents, "Of course we're keeping this quiet. If the newspapers try and find out about this, which they will, because it is mandatory for us to register it with the Auror Office, we'll say it's a possibility."

But it only half fell upon my ears. It was like the wall that was behind me, keeping the war out of my mind and Ron in it, had collapsed. And there in the pile of rubble was Ron, being invaded by the darkness and hatred. My only shot to keep a grasp on normalcy was gone. My two worlds, where there was nothing but the war and where there was nothing but Ron, the war being only a temporary delusion, had coincided... I wanted to vomit.

The moment one of the Twins touched my shoulder and said my name, tears flooded my eyes. I had wanted to be silent and still, until the pain in my stomach went away. Until I could get a handle on what Remus had told me. But minutes had passed and my parents' saying my name had half fallen upon my ears, but no handle appeared. Then I broke when one of the Twins, it was George said my name. Why then? Because he sounded like Ron. Then when I looked up through water-blurred and squinting eyes, he looked like Ron. I fell onto him, clutching him around the waist, unable to stand. His body was too different from Ron's. Ron was soft, lithe, and thin. George was thick and hard, not so much more that it was a huge difference, but only so much where I couldn't delude myself. Because, with the utmost wretched pounding in my chest, I wanted it to be him.

My parents tried with soothing voices to have me let go of George, he and Fred had to finish setting up a booby trap with your old Professor, Hermione. He'll be okay, let's take you back to bed. I screamed. I caterwauled. Crookshanks trotted into the living room and hissed at everyone. There was deep mumbling all around. Pops of disapparation. George Weasley's agitated and nervous body finally moved. He put large hands underneath my arms and raised me so I was standing, then he picked me up and carried me like a child into the living room. Passing thoughts tried to deter my wailing. Were all Weasleys this strong? Ron could pick me up. He had before. After a while, even though I couldn't open my eyes and I was choking on air and snot, I realized we were sitting on the couch. My head was on his shoulder and his hand would occasionally rake through the ends of my hair. His arm was around my shoulder and his fingers danced across my arm, lightly, soothing. But he wasn't saying anything. And there was a simple mantra, vicious and cold, saying, 'he isn't Ron.' Ron would've put a pillow on his lap and had me lie down. Ron would've played with my hair and never let his hands out. He would've mumbled things until I stopped crying. Sympathetic words, recitations of Rule Britannia and the official rules of Quidditch, dreams, nothings, until I stopped. George didn't say anything.

So I cried and wailed and wished it weren't true. No, Remus didn't tell me flat out, Ron is dead. Or Ron has a very slim chance of getting out alive, but he didn't need to. It was why the Twins were so dreadfully quiet. Death Eaters wouldn't torture purebloods for no reason. Even if they were Blood Traitors. Ron is Harry's best friend. That's not a mystery. They obviously wanted information from Ron. It took me awhile to reach that conclusion, amidst my gasping wails and nonsensical musing inside my head, but that was the logic. My throat tightened and my stomach quivered. I knew. The Twins probably knew. Harry knew almost certainly. Hell, Remus probably knew. Ron would die before betraying Harry or me or doing whatever the Death Eaters wanted him to do. I was certain.

It renewed my sobbing. I yelled out Ron's name like a banshee. I clung to George.

"Hermione... shush, shush. Ron will be okay," he finally said. Trying to laugh, "He didn't survive sixteen years of Fred and me for nothing."

My stomach was tearing itself in half. I felt wretched. My eyes were heavy. My insides were queasy. My body ached for him. Oh god, if only we hadn't... had sex. If only we showed some restraint I wouldn't be so attache. I wouldn't feel him being gone.

I pulled myself closer to George, like I was shivering from cold, not want and terror.

"George... don't tell your mother."

"She knows, Hermione... shush"

"No," I hissed and hiccuped. "We... He and I... we made love... before school let out. Don't tell Molly, she'll kill me."

I could feel George's eyes boring into me. He swallowed nervously. "It's okay. I won't tell... You guys were careful, though..."

I nodded, swallowing mucus and wincing. "I needed to tell you... I'm so bloody stupid! Oh god! I'm so stupid... I needed to tell you. If only we hadn't I wouldn't be like this. I wouldn't feel like this. It's so horrible, George. Oh god! It feels like someone's cutting me up inside. I wouldn't feel like this!"

I broke into another bout of broken sobs and he shushed me and pet my hair. "It's okay, Hermione. It's okay. I reckon you'd feel the same way, anyway."

I would have to thank George for letting me sit there, at his side. For letting carry on like that and cry. Because he sat there with me until I stopped and was still. My eyes were closed, but I wasn't sleeping. Whether he knew that or not I didn't care. My eyes were sore from weeping and I couldn't stand to cry much longer. He got up and laid me down on the couch.

Fred's voice came into the room, "I would make a joke, but... How is she?"

Creaking on the floor, George was standing up or stretching, "Horrible. Absolutely horrible. I didn't have the heart to leave her there. She must've thought I was Ron for a while. Sorry, about that. Did you guys finish?"

"Yes and told her 'rents about it. Remus knows what he's doing." There was a silence, then Fred continued. "Merlin's beard, your shirt is soaked."

"She cried herself to sleep... Oh, shit, Fred. Weasley honor, you have to keep this secret."

"Whoa... Sure."

"I'm bloody serious. As my brother. My twin."

"Yeah, George, of course. What's up?"

"They had sex."

"Who had sex?"

"Ron and Hermione. She told me. Before school let out."

"No way!"

"No shit."

There was a long silence, where I wanted to get up and kill George. But I didn't have the energy and half didn't care. Fred was like an extension of George, so it wasn't surprising that he'd tell him. Hopefully, they wouldn't tell Ginny. I was sort of afraid of telling Ginny. 'I'm so stupid,' I said to myself. But they never started talking again. They walked out of the living room. I kept laying on the couch. I could've gone back to my room, but I wouldn't sleep anywhere, so it didn't matter.

I kept thinking about how easy it was to divide my life into sections that I thought couldn't intercede. It was easy to think that nothing would interfere with Ron and I. Especially after we had sex. Wasn't that like sealing the deal? It was easy to not think about Harry after that, even though he was a big part of our lives. He belonged in our lives and it was easy to exclude him because it was simpler. Ron and I being together made life easy.

Who ever said life was easy?


End file.
